Caught in the Cross Hairs
by Kelly1
Summary: Domino and Quicksilver have a friendly conversation on the roof during target practice. Set during Episode 11.


I love the witty back and forths going on between Quicksilver and Domino in WatXM, so huzzah: ficcy to capture that. This is set during Episode 11: Past Discretions, wherein intolerable levels of Logan were made okay only by the Brotherhood's wonderful appearance. I don't care that they are "evil," I love them and I refuse to write another ROMY for this section, even if no one reads it. Mrr :: takes a stand ::

Caught in the Cross Hairs

by Kelly1

Domino lined up her gleaming target in the cross hairs. It was her final shot of the day, she had set up a beer bottle on the roof of an abandoned building 1.3 miles away. It was her last beer and her reward for practicing, she'd have to go buy another six tomorrow. She had unscrewed the cap, placing it back on top when she had set it up. If she could make this shot, ideally, she would only hit the cap off, leaving her frosty beer and its fragile glass container intact. If she missed, alas, no beer. To add to the challenge, she had waited until dusk settled, the hardest time of the day for visibility. She had this, she could do this. The cap would come off and her beer would survive.

As her finger squeezed the trigger, the door of the roof slammed behind her. She jumped instinctively (amateurishly, she corrected herself) and watched through the scope as the bullet missed her target and instead hit the concrete ledge two feet to the left. It shattered, sending pieces ricocheting off, one of which gently arched and knocked the cap off of her bottle, leaving the glass and precious beer unharmed.

She growled in frustration, not bothering to turn to the figure behind her as she began her tirade. She had almost missed, which was nearly as bad as actually missing in her books. "Toad, I am not your mother; I am not your babysitter; I am not your maid. As I mentioned quite clearly only a half an hour ago when you came up here, I do not know where the remote is. Look for it yourself and stop interrupting me or I SWEAR, I will shoot that stupid grin off your annoying face."

She wheeled, aiming the rifle as she turned to illustrate her point. She wouldn't actually shoot him. Probably. A white haired mutant she hadn't expected to find raised his hands in mock surrender, "Don't shoot. This would be an embarrassing Waterloo for the history books."

She grinned at Quicksilver, coping a seat on one of the air vent covers and beginning to disassemble her gun, "Nah, I'd be a total hero. I bet they'd even write out the part of me being a member of the Brotherhood and say I hit you with a one-in-a-million shot from eight miles away."

Pietro lowered himself into a sitting position next to her, "In the fog."

"At night."

"With a gun whittled out of balsa wood."

"And no bullets."

Pietro smiled mirthlessly, "You're right, you should go for it. 'Truth, Justice, and the Domino way.' It'd be a great career move for you. Hell, being a corpse would probably be a step up for me too." An awkward pause in the conversation. "So, other than would-be fascist mutant dictators, what are you up here shooting?"

Domino shrugged. "Just practice. I was aiming for the cap off my last beer."

"Ohhh, sorry," Pietro grimaced, "Is the little guy going to make it after my interruption?"

"He's still in one piece for now, though I suspect his internal fluids are in mortal danger of being drank."

"It's probably best not to prolong the agony and suspense for the poor guy then." A flash of green. Withing five seconds Pietro was again perched next to her on the roof, bottle in hand. He drank deeply down to the top of the label, then handed it to her.

"So, now that you've flushed out my diabolical plot of beer-intrigue and beer-murder on the roof, want to tell me what you're doing up here?"

"Take a guess."

"Blob's still in his boxers?" No response. "Eeugh... Blob's not in his boxers?" Pietro smiled at her half-heartedly, moving his gaze down to his hands clenched in his lap, balled so tightly into fists that the white knuckles were obvious even in the fading light. "Ah, so big M called, huh?"

Another long pause in the conversation. Domino waited for him the break the silence. "The thing that really irks me is that I know I am going to do this. I am going to bend over backwards and demand the best from you all and accomplish this ridiculously impossible task for him, and it's not going to matter at all." He knotted his fingers in a way that was obvious he was trying to keep himself from hitting something. "I will always be a screw up to him and nothing will ever be enough."

Domino shifted in her seat noncommittally. It was times like this that made her hate working for Magnus. Of course nothing would ever be enough, Magneto was not a stupid man. He was well aware that he would be able to squeeze more loyalty, more effort out of his only son through manipulation. She just didn't understand what motivated a man to do that. He knew he was killing Pietro with this, he knew that, but ignored it because it was better for his cause.

Pietro made a pistol with his fingers and fired it into the dark, "So, how much do you charge for mutant dictator killing anyways," he chuckled darkly, but Domino had known him long enough to know it was a joke. Mostly.

"Eh, you couldn't afford me. Plus I don't know if taking out the boss is a good plan for us, it makes people hesitant to hire you in the future."

"Nah, we're going straight to the top. You can be my second in command."

"Everyone knows if it was you and me, you'd be the puppet leader -- good for parades and assassinating only. I'd be the real power." She grinned, flexing her small bicep. "Just like with our team now."

Pietro punched her on the shoulder lightly and snagged the beer out of her hand, finishing the dregs. "Come on, I've got more in the fridge."

The end.

Please read and review... am I the only person who like the BOEM?


End file.
